


The Weapon's Daughter

by Regency



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, F/M, Gen, Kidnapping, Time Babies, may be ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything that comes after 'A Good Man Goes to War' is predicated on the Doctor and the Ponds believing River's confession. What if they hadn't?</p><p>When a tragic mistake leads to two children lost, the Doctor will fall further than ever before, and River Song will be the one to push him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weapon's Daughter

She could only stare. On the ground, on her knees, she could only stare at her empty arms.  She’d been holding her child only minutes before, and now the girl was gone.

He’d fooled her.  The one man she’d truly loved and trusted in a life with so few confidantes had come to her as though in love and stolen her daughter away.

Everything in her wanted to scream at the betrayal, rail as loud as fantastic lungs allowed at the stars until they quailed themselves and burned in fear.  She could do that, all of that.  She was not the Doctor, but she was more than Amy Pond or Rory Williams, more unearthly than she’d ever been a daughter of Gaia or a descendant of Eve.  They would be sorry that had ever invoked their friendship with the Doctor for this cause.  They would regret the day they let their hearts overrule good sense and he had gone along.

                The Doctor may have had hundreds upon hundreds of rules, but River Song had only one.  _Forgiveness belongs to the dead._   The three of them were very much alive.

                For now.

~!~

                Her words were very simple, written on his psychic paper, eerily so in fact.

                _Return my daughter._

He ignored it, telling himself firmly that they were the words of a liar, of a madwoman, of someone who could not be trusted.  He tossed it away, refusing to answer to her nonsense again. Whatever their ending, whatever their game, he was finished.  Time could be rewritten and he intended to see to it that it was.

                Yet, that psychic paper found him again and again on the hour for hours, growing warmer with each repetition.  The hand in which it was written was staid and certain.  It wasn’t the writing of a frantic woman or even one he interpreted as particularly angry at her plight.  He couldn’t decide why that made him furious, but in a fit of motion the pad was lost in the vortex of time, and that made him feel decidedly less upset.  She couldn’t reach him now, not really.

                He breathed more easily after, puttering about his TARDIS quietly as little Melody slept in her room.  She was six years old, he hazarded, and she was wonderful.  Inquisitive and courteous—with a touch of wariness that made him uneasy—but sweet nonetheless.  He didn’t like the thought that she should feel afraid of them, that River might have filled her head with reasons that she should be.  Melody Pond was safer than she would ever be in this TARDIS and he knew that deep within both of his hearts.

                The TARDIS adored her, drew her close anytime she entered the console room, seeming to whisper the secrets of Time in her ears.  Her eyes were always wide then and she’d grin.  He found himself trying not to think of how like River she looked in those moments.  It was hard enough when she stood before him with her head of ginger curls and her not-so-brown eyes.  Those instances filled him with a dread he could not quite contain.

Because if he had made a mistake, there was no remedy for it.  Time was such a fickle friend.  Somewhere, then, the real Melody Pond languished, lost. And River Song waited in a rage that would likely not be sated without blood.  He knew her well enough to say that, he knew her as well as he ever would if he was wrong.

                _She exhibits all the signs of exposure to the Time Vortex.  How many children would?_   The answers were more varied than he’d hoped.  There was too much logic to it.  If River was truly his one, his other, his wife, then there was every reason to believe that a child of theirs would show similar, if not greater evidence of exposure, in addition to Time Lord DNA.

                _Don’t let me be wrong about this. Don’t let me have damned two children and sundry lives the same way again._   Vengeance had moved him too quickly before and cost them Melody.  It might yet have cost him more.

                He became aware, then, of small bare feet padding down the stairs to the console room.  The TARDIS brightened briefly in loving welcome.  He turned slowly to see that beacon of curly hair, braided with care, heralding a most beloved visitor.  Her hazel—he’d say hazel, so much more complex than even Amelia’s warm brown—eyes rimmed with red and her face flushed.  His hearts seized in unspoken guilt as he dropped to his knees to open his arms.

                She leapt into them, her tears starting anew to wet his collar.  She was small and warm, the desperation of whatever she was feeling alive in her grasp.  _She’s so strong._   He thought back to the girl in the spacesuit, her eyes blue and hair some shade of lovely blonde.  This was not that girl by any means and yet he hesitated to say that nothing bound them.

                It was a moment before he realized she was speaking, her voice muffled and disappearing into the creases of his collar.

                “What is it, sweetheart? Won’t you speak up a bit?” Shaking quite noticeably, she snuggled closer, as if to hide in his arms.  It felt oddly normal and oddly painful to be her safe haven when she had her parents who would so gladly have given her sanctuary.  “Come on, then, I can’t make things better if I’ve no idea what’s wrong.”   He gently pulled her away so that he could look into her eyes.  “Out with it.”

                She wiped at her face, embarrassed.  “Daddy, I don’t want to play TARDIS anymore. Can I go home?”  The words came across bleedingly sincere.

                “You are home, Melody.”  He reached to stroke her hair only for her to pull sharply out of his embrace.

                “That isn’t funny, Daddy.  Mummy said you’re not supposed to play that game anymore.  It’s not safe.”  He began to feel as though River were standing right over them, hands on hips and unhappy to boot.

                “Melody-”

                “I’m not Melody, Daddy.”  She sounded worried, worried and afraid.  “I’m Rory, remember?”  He moved to touch her, to reassure her, but she evaded him nimbly, going to the center console, draped in an unhappiness that tugged at his spirit.  “TARDIS, tell Daddy.”  When nothing happened, she stomped her naked feet and bared her teeth.  For a moment, it appeared she might strike the controls when the Doctor began to feel the most stirring presence in his mind.  In the hundreds of years she had been his companion, he had never felt his ship so distressed out of skin.

                _You were wrong_ , said his Sexy in not to so many words. No words, actually, none that would have translated. It was more a feeling, an overwhelming wave.  There was fear and disappointment and dread, so much dread.  She knew a thing or more about how this could end and had no confidence in it.  He could have kissed her if she still had lips.

                _Better late than never._

                “Rory. Rory,” he asked, turning to her with new eyes.  They were eyes that had seen their error and knew that it would have cost, but there wasn’t a moment to waste.  If he had friends who would start a war, he didn’t doubt that River had at least that and mutual enemies only too glad to destroy him now that he’d fallen so far.  “Rory Song, is it?”  The girl nodded, unsure and keeping her distance.  “What’s that short for?”

                She frowned a frown that was all too familiar.  He was furious at himself that he hadn’t allowed himself to see.  “You know,” she declared, certain.

                “I don’t know yet.”

                The child retreated even further then, gripping the railing that surrounded the platform.  “You’re not supposed to see to me yet.”

                “No, I suppose not,” he confessed. He’d made a right cock-up of things. He’d have to force himself to forget later on. It was the only way to repair the timeline, if it could fixed at all.

                “Mummy will be angry.”

                “Yes, I imagine she’ll be incredibly cross with me.”

                “No, Daddy, she’s madder than that.”

                He leaned toward her, meeting her eyes bravely, and pretended he didn’t detect a stray note of fear. That was something he deserved to have to face. There was much worse ahead.  “How do you know?”

                Rory touched her temple.  “I can hear her in here.”

                “Does she talk to you?”  She nodded.  “Can you talk back to her?”  She nodded again, though hesitantly.  “Tell your mum that the Doctor—er, Daddy—knows he’s made a mistake and he intends to go about correcting it very soon. Can you do that for me?” She gave a jerky nod before closing her eyes.  Now that there was near-silence, he could hear their concordant hearts beating.

                _I’m sorry, my love_ , came unbidden to his thoughts, and he didn’t doubt, much too late.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any characters, setting, or quotes recognizable as being from Doctor Who. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
> 
> If you guys wanna talk/flail/flop with me on Tumblr, I'm [sententiousandbellicose](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com).


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